


Hindering Progress

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: #666foryou [377]
Category: Damien (TV)
Genre: Fallen Angels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Series, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8175289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: This compound has been sacrosanct by direct order from Lucifer.  I take a great risk in my defiance, but stronger measures must be taken.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 30 September 2016  
> Word Count: 1017  
> Prompt: story  
> Summary: This compound has been sacrosanct by direct order from Lucifer. I take a great risk in my defiance, but stronger measures must be taken.  
> Spoilers: Post-series, taking place approximately four months after the events of episode 01x10 "Ave Satani." Beyond that, everything we learned in these 10 episodes is up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: #666foryou  
> Series: Alliances  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Damien," "The Omen," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Glen Mazzara, David Seltzer, 20th Century Fox Television, Fox 21, and A&E Television Networks. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Damien," "The Omen," A&E, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: I noted on Twitter when I started this, "tfw my D20 perversely rolls Abaddon & Ann with a prompt of 'story'... FML This could be long..." And I was mostly right. It's a relatively long fic, and one that I'm actually rather proud of. That the fallen angels are beginning to come after Ann to deal with her grief is telling. And I _really_ like the idea that the estate is considered off-limits to the angels, fallen or not, but Abaddon ignores that because it's important.
> 
> Dedication: This is part of a series of stories to thank the phenomenal creative team of _Damien_ , both in front of and behind the camera.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl

She sits quietly at the patio table, journal open and pen in hand, but no writing happens. The sun is setting behind her, painting the sky in brilliant shades of red and gold, chased along the edges by the deeper purples and blues of night. But she sees none of this, body facing the east toward the ascendancy of the Morning Star. In fact, her eyes appear sightless, all conscious thought turned inward to things probably better left hidden in the dark recesses of her psyche. Of course, this is Ann Rutledge, and she doesn't hide from anything.

Except that all changed four months ago when Power took her daughter as payment for some debt owed. Even I have no idea what that debt was or from whom it was extracted, beyond the obvious loss of life. She has been studiously avoiding the inevitability of grief and catharsis, masking it as help for this chosen family that the Beast has gathered to him. She refuses to do for herself what she has done for the others.

I have never appeared to any of them in this place. This compound has been sacrosanct by direct order from Lucifer. I take a great risk in my defiance, but stronger measures must be taken. Damien needs her strength, her staunch support, but that won't come if she's distracted by things that should be farther along in their process than they currently are.

"You are no coward, Ann Rutledge."

She stiffens slightly, spine going more rigid than normal as I speak, head whipping around to seek me out. I haven't shown myself just yet. Sighing, she reaches for her glass of wine and takes a healthy swallow. Without thought or hesitation, she refills her glass from the bottle.

"Who are you?" she asks softly, a thread of steel in her tone.

"I am someone who has been watching you for quite some time," I reply, allowing her to see me this time. I still wear black from head to toe; the outfit is familiar and easily recognizable from Damien's photographs and Kelly's video footage. "You have been a person of interest for a long time now among my associates."

Her rigid posture is indicative of her need to show proper deference, but her curiosity belies her manners. "Is that so? I didn't realize that meaningless cogs in the greater machine warranted such scrutiny."

Taking the chair directly to her right, I lean forward with forearms resting on the table. She attempts nonchalance as she sneaks glances at me from the corner of her eye. Ah yes, there's that burning curiosity to _know_ , to gain control of the situation and protect her tender underbelly. Even now, as loss and regret gnaw ravenously at her gut, she refuses to appear weak to anyone else.

"What did you mean when you said to Damien 'The part that I play is insignificant'?"

"How--" She smiles then, not bothering to finish the question, and still refuses to meet my gaze. "Well, that certainly proves what Damien and Simone have both said about you. Who are you really? What is your name?"

A slow smile curves up my lips, and I know the rictus it puts on my face in this particular guise. "We're not here to discuss me, Ann, and I think you know that."

Her eyes narrow as she takes a sip of her wine. "So you're not going to tell me. Names have power, even for those of your kind. Perhaps more so for you and yours."

"Why do you disrespect your daughter's memory?" The lines between her brows deepen, but that doesn't stop me. "She was a noble--"

"No! You don't get to talk about her like that. I don't care who or what you are. Veronica is not on the table for discussion."

I can't help the knowing laugh bubbling up from my gut. "You and I both know that you are far smarter than that, Ann. You are delaying the inevitable. Power wants your grief and your acceptance, and we both know that Power _always_ gets what It wants. Hiding from this will only make it worse when it does happen."

"There is no set timetable for grief," she tosses back, slamming the journal shut. "You can't order me to do before its time what isn't yet meant to be."

"Full acceptance, no. But you've done no grieving yet. That is as unhealthy as the repression you reprimand Simone and Shay about. They both have sought assistance to deal with their traumas. Why do you refuse to do the same?"

"My personal life has nothing to do with the Plan."

Reaching over with a gnarled hand, I squeeze her wrist to keep her from moving. "You are hindering the Antichrist from the next step of his ascension to his rightful power. He worries about you, they all do, but your barbed defenses keep them from forcing you to deal with your grief."

She growls softly, trying and failing to remove her arm from my grip. "I am doing no such thing."

"You know that's a lie. It's a good thing I'm not Damien, though you've nearly broken your promise a few times already. A lie by omission…"

"He has enough to deal with," she finally admits softly, voice already thick with unshed tears. "I am here to help him, not giving him further burdens."

"He has accepted you as family, Ann, just what you've wanted all these years. The part of him that is still human wants to help you. He _needs_ your guidance and your focus, but you won't have that until you do what you need to do. After all the work you've put in, all the blood you've spilled for him, will your stubborn pride and fear be his downfall?"

Before she can answer, I vanish from sight again. I've done enough damage for one night. Now it's up to her to take the next step. The last thing I hear before leaving her completely alone is the sound of her pent-up grief pouring out in soft sobs.


End file.
